


Our Family Farm

by DrSnoots



Category: Harvest Moon, Harvest Moon: Back To Nature, Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town
Genre: Eventual Romance, Existential Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSnoots/pseuds/DrSnoots
Summary: A young man, disillusioned and unfulfilled like so many of those around him, has a rare chance to change his life's direction when his grandfather leaves him an amazing gift. Memories of warmth, peace, and a smiling face he can't quite recall draw him back to the farm of his childhood, despite all better judgement. My attempt at the classic BtN/FoMT romance.
Relationships: Jack & SoMEboDy I dUnNo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. A Dream

Oh, it's you. The boy visiting the Old Man's farm.

...Do you always play alone? I like it here, too, so I come here a lot to play alone.

...Tell me some stories...about the city...and about you...

Jack slowly became aware it was the cottage-cheese ceiling of his $950 a month studio apartment he was looking at. The warm fog of sleep's confusion left him all too soon and the details of his life filled in his brain's questions as he blinked slowly and waited for the blurriness to fade. Red numbers burned into corneas unused to light. His alarm would go off in five minutes.

Before he could readjust his pillow and enjoy the satisfaction of a bed's warmth as only a sleepy man can, the notebook on his bedside table swam into view. With a reluctant groan he slapped his hand towards it and made a bet with himself. If he could find the pen he'd write down what he could remember and if he couldn't he'd go back to sleep until the alarm jarred him back to reality.

The pen rolled into his palm. "Damn." It was only a temporary weakness that led the young man to consider shirking on his bet, but he never did that. At least not when the bet was with himself. The mattress complained in sympathy as he slid up against the cool drywall behind him and clicked the pen. It was only the third time Jack had written details of his dreams in the notebook. The internet said that this was the first step towards lucid dreaming, and in a stroke of whimsy and boredom, Jack had set aside the materials. Dreams didn't seem particularly strange or powerful to Jack. He subscribed to the idea that they were the product of a brain sweeping out it's trash and that dreams were something like cleaning out a cluttered garage. But he had experienced lucid dreaming as a fluke once, and knowing that one is dreaming was great fun; bouncing around the library with no gravity had been an exhilarating experience that ended far too soon. If he could figure out how to do it again... to train himself to the point where every night could be a grand escape...

The notes were underwhelming. The details of the dream had slipped through his memory and disappeared for the most part, only "yellow wheat" and "grandpa's farm probably" remained. It made him think of his childhood for a moment – focus began to waver as he stared back towards the past again, as he often did. Visions of the old man, untrustworthy with the passage of time, came to his unfocused mind. His crinkled smile and even more crinkled eyes. A raspy voice and too-hard clap on the back. "Come and actually do something with me, Sonny – you might like it! Get yer scrawny hide outside for a change!" Eggs, strangely different from the supermarket. Sunburn.

The alarm went off.

Jack let it ring, annoyed at the interruption, but unwilling to give the thing the satisfaction of moving. It was harder to think with the blaring sound at first, but after the first five minutes it turned into a white noise that was almost calming. A deep breath. Three. Two. One. With a flick of the switch, the noise stopped and pale legs kicked off the blankets with false bravado. "Fake it till you make it" was one of Jack's favorite mottos.

Grandpa forgotten, he now pondered whether he had it in him to use mouthwash this morning. The toothpaste was putting up a fight (gotta buy another tube) and it was so cold in the bathroom. He wanted to go back to bed and never get up again. Front, molars, other molars, sides, tongue, spit. Nope. Screw the mouthwash. His reflection caught his eye. The familiar face smiled back resignedly and the bicep flex was discouraging. As soon as he had the cash for some home equipment, it was time to work out. And despite his overall thinness, the pudginess around his sides was getting disconcerting. He'd jog once the weather was nicer. And he'd get better food next time he went shopping. For sure next time.

The shower laughed steam at his dishonesty but the heat was comforting for a few minutes all the same, though the familiar chill of dread in his gut began to counterbalance that soon enough. Like an old friend who doesn't have to ask anymore, the anxiety plopped down and kicked off its shoes while asking the same old questions. Do I really have to go? Why do people need to work to live? Why are people so terrible? Why am I so weak? Why can't I get over this? What should I take for lunch today?

Shaking his head at the immature thoughts, Jack turned the now lukewarm water off and rubbed his raisiny fingers together absently. He mused on his unhappiness in a detached way until he was dry and dressed. The pants cut in to his sides and the tie felt like a threatening hand against his throat. Mornings are hard for everybody, Jack rationalized.

"I've got it good all things considered. Mom and Dad are proud enough. I'm not a failure like so many. I've been saving up and I'll be able to retire good when I'm old and I can probably afford to have a family one day. I've got it good." He talked out loud often, and only rarely felt odd about it. His self-consciousness about his stomach was fresh in his mind, so he skipped breakfast while knowing that wouldn't help.

The drive to work was nice. Music was easy to daydream to and he felt a certain camaraderie with all the other tired faces he saw on the commute. He had picked up the habit of looking out the window during traffic jams to see who was stuck along with him – and the variety of faces was always intriguing. Frazzled women in business-wear pleading for children to stop crying and believe that daycare was going to be fun that day. Listless youths tapping to the beat of the radio. Beautiful women grimacing in very unattractive ways. Occasionally someone would feel his eyes and look over and exchange a wave. Jack felt an odd thrill every time he made the same "Can you believe this traffic?" face to someone.

Work itself was fine as well, as always. Although the young man yearned for nothing more than to fly through the ceiling with a pair of jet boots yelling profanities at his coworkers, he made small talk and got his reports in like a pro.

"Hey, you're looking energetic as usual – wish I had some of what you have!" Somebody said. She'd talk to him occasionally, he felt bad about not caring what her name was enough to remember.

"Hey, meet me behind the office tomorrow with fifty bucks and I'll give you some!" He joked. It wasn't a very good joke, but she laughed gamely anyway.

Fake it till you make it, he'd remind himself. He hadn't made it in a few years, but it would get easier. Even if it didn't, it wasn't like he could get any other job that would pay okay with his experience and degree. Jack was practical, and it had served him well. People were always amazed at how he had gotten through college without debt by working multiple jobs. His savings account balance was a matter of pride, although he was only occasionally uncouth enough to share it with someone. One day he would use the money to escape. And until then, fake it till you make it.

It was while repeating this to himself for the fifth time that day that his phone buzzed with his mother's demand to talk. She knew he was working at this time, so it was probably something he needed to pick up about. As he would remember with a kind of self-hating humor later, he guessed exactly right at what the call would be about before he excused himself outside into the hallway to hit "Answer".

"Hey, what is it Ma?" The usual greeting, maybe a bit peppier than he felt. The mood quickly shifted.

"J-Jackie..." Her voice was quiet, hesitant, and was obviously full of emotion. Jack's throat tightened. He loved both his parents very much, and neither were prone to excesses of emotion, so the unusual weakness in his Mother's voice made him want to be there. Phone conversations were so awful.

"Mom, Mom are you okay?" He knew the answer of course, but it's what he said.

"Jackie, I'm sorry..." She was trying to hold it together. He could sense she had been crying for quite a while before this. "Jackie, it's Grandpa..."

His Mother's Father's death had been a foregone conclusion for a long time, but that made it no less painful for him in this moment. The poor old man had been in and out of the hospital for the last few months after his heart attack. Because he had lived so far out in the country, Mom and Dad had brought him to their house to stay – Jack had seen him whenever he could visit on the weekends. Probably why dreams of memories had been popping up. Not a very talkative man anymore, Grandpa, and there wasn't a lot in common that Jack could talk about. To be frank, it was a bit uncomfortable speaking with him because it was difficult to keep the conversation flowing – but it had been very comforting to sit near him while watching tv, reading, or going through old photos together while Dad narrated every snapshot.

"Mom... Oh no..." Jack felt more saddened for his Mother's loss than his own. He knew she had always been very fond of her Father, and he of her. It wasn't a loss she hadn't prepared herself for, of course, but it would take some time for her to grieve. "Mom..." He began to tear up and allowed his voice to waver. "What happened?"

"We're still in the hospital. He had another heart attack and..." a shuddering breath. "-the, the Doctors said they did everything they could but... Oh..." The sound of her muffled crying fading into the distance made Jack's tears flow that much easier as his Father took the phone.

"Jack, are you there?" Dad, always the rock, sounded calm. It helped a bit.

"Yeah."

"Are you at work?"

"Yeah. Look, I'll get out and get there right away. Which hospital are you at?"

"Presbyterian. Down over on-"

"Yeah, yeah I know where that is," Jack lied. His GPS would tell him just fine, and the time seemed wrong for one of his Dad's overwrought explanations of how to get there. "I'll be there in, like...I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay." Hesitation. Neither one talking knew how to end the call. "I'm sorry, I know how hard this is on you. We'll see you soon."

"Okay, Dad. I love you."

"Love you too, son. See you soon." The sound of Mom's sobs was the last thing he heard. The shock of it all sank in slowly and Jack stood perfectly still for a time, indulging in the returning tears for only a minute before moving back towards where the his coworkers were. He knew his eyes were red and was thankful for it – getting out early wouldn't require much explanation now.

It was in this moment, in this walk back towards the office that Jack fully considered his mortality for the first time. He was still very young despite his middle-aged lifestyle, a man of 24, but now he felt almost as if death was hanging over him at this very moment. Judging him and waiting, just as it had waited patiently for his Grandfather.

While making his clipped leave request to his understanding manager, Jack decided that he would quit this practical job that gave him no fulfillment very soon. What he would do next, he did not know, but life was far too short. He also made a bet with himself – if he didn't wuss out and keep doing this thing that meant nothing to him, when he was old like Grandpa, he wouldn't be filled with regret for the time he'd already wasted.

And while driving to the hospital under the unnaturally precise orders of his smartphone, he remembered a bit more of that morning's dream. A bit of a tune, three repeating notes that made his heart a bit calmer. He hummed them over and over again, until the comfort turned into a different shade of grief that he did not know the reason for.


	2. The Gift

"Grandpa was a man unlike any other I've met. He was a man of character, a man of the earth. His hands were always dirty... and his mouth and head were usually right there with them." Jack winced internally. He probably shouldn't have gone for that half-hearted joke. This wasn't a damn roast of the man. "I say that, but I've never been close to anyone as upstanding in moral fiber. I still remember the Summer I spent with him. I must have been, what, seven? Eight years old? He would say things to me like, 'Always bet on yourself – if you can't do that, you have no business racing."

It was only a half-lie: it hadn't been said to him, but it was written on the back of a photograph to Jack's father. Jack had forgotten everything Grandpa had said to him that Summer. It was all probably stuff along the lines of 'stop playing that gameboy and come wash some cows with me'. It was far too sunny today.

"That was the kind of man he was." Tears were coming, and the speaker started to smile at just how cliché' this speech was. "He was strong enough to bet on himself. He made everything with his own hands – his house, his land, his living. His relationships... all these things were carefully laid into place with love..." He was surprised at the choked sob that suddenly shook free to punctuate his point. Shamefully, the pain it betrayed wasn't all devoted to the old man's loss. "I'm sorry. He was... an inspiration to me. He showed me what is possible when you... God..." The too-high inflection brought on by his constricted throat sounded so funny. His nose was starting to drip and he fought gravity as long as he could – wiping it with his sleeve would be so childish.

"I'm sorry. I... We all will miss you. We all love you." He stepped down. With Jack's speech completed, things were turned back over to the priest and it wasn't long before the coffin was in the ground.

The funeral was short and he hoped the reception would follow suit. Funeral receptions were a strange thing. Eating snacks at a time like this. Everyone showed up of course – all the uncles, aunts, and cousins that were never around otherwise were in Sunday best to see the old man one last time. Not many had spoken at the podium, however, which was both annoying and blessed mercy in equal fashion. Jack himself had been strong-armed in to it - "You're such a good speaker, he would have wanted you to say something," - but his usual gift for improvisation had somewhat failed him. He grimaced at the memory of each small flub while trying his best to avoid mingling but his mom and dad were off speaking with other large crowds and there was only so much fruit he could put on his paper plate.

"Hey, your speech was nice." A little boy he didn't recognize. His smile and twinkling eyes seemed very out of place in the setting, but they were refreshing nonetheless. Probably one of the kids of a family member that lived across the country - but he looked to be about nine or ten years old which was enough to go on for small talk.

"Thanks. Sorry if you're related to me somehow, but I can't remember if we've met. I'm Jack." The offered hand was shaken enthusiastically.

"Hi, I'm Stu!" The boy's jet black bowl-cut gave an air of innocence that made the elder of the two jealous.

"Stu, huh? A pleasure, Stu. Did you get out of school to come down here today?" It was 2 pm on a Friday, after all.

"Kinda. I'm homeschooled." He was bragging.

"Oh yeah? Well, how's that?"

"Good."

"That's a lie, school isn't ever good. Home or no."

"Well, yeah, but it's good." He started tearing at the coffee cake on a nearby table, itchy with the weight of formality around him.

"So who teaches you? Your Mom?"

"My grandma mostly. Sometimes Pastor Carter teaches me things." Jack felt a small amount of prejudicial ire sneak into the back of his mind at the mention of a church leader teaching impressionable children, but ignored it. "Hey, can you get me some of those cream puffs on the back of the table? I can't reach."

"Sure, but I'm pretty sure there's spinach in there."

"Oh, well that's okay. I like spinach too. Can I have, um, gimmie three." A snap of remembrance. "Please?"

Amused and comforted by the child's unusually polite nature and taste for spinach, Jack obliged. He was thankful it was a kid who had latched on to him for conversation – they were so much easier to talk to than adults."So are your parents here with you, Stu?"

"Oh, no. Mom and Dad died a while ago." The child didn't seem upset, so Jack forgave himself for missing how Stu had changed the subject quickly when asked about his Mother before.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry Stu. That was pretty thoughtless of me."

"Naw, it's okay. Hey, do you want to play something?" It really must have been okay, because the smiling face didn't miss a beat.

"Well, I don't know if everybody would appreciate us running around right now, man."

"Aw, come on. I'm bored and I've been bored all day. You seem like you'd be fun to play with." The tug at his shirt sleeve was persuasive, but Jack wasn't ready to break that social more quite yet.

"Sorry Stu, I think we'd both get in too much trouble." The tugging only got more persistent, but it was interrupted by another voice floating through the low murmur in the air.

"Stewart, get off of that young man – you know better than that." The voice sounded unused to scolding – if it had meant to be a reprimand, it had come out more like a teasing joke mixed with a friendly request. The source was a warm looking older woman shuffling closer – gray and subtly trembling in her fluffly floral dress that would have seemed unusual attire for a funeral had the entire woman not been so endearingly unfashionable. "I'm so sorry. Get off him now, Stewart."

"Aww..." The tugging stopped reluctantly and the small arm fell limply, deprived of purpose. "But there's nothing to do."

"You can't always be entertained, there are things that are more important." That statement had the air of something said many times before. "Now stay with me and if you're good we'll stop somewhere for a treat on the drive back home."

"Really? The Mayor will stop for us?" The boy was so excited – it was as if the woman had offered him a new game console.

"To be honest, we'd have our work cut out for us to get him not to – the Mayor does love his ice cream." She looked at Jack conspiratorially, the joke must have seemed devilish to her.

"You've come to visit us along with the Mayor?" Jack was intrigued. Grandpa hadn't seemed like the kind of man who rubbed elbows with individuals of public clout.

"Oh? Oh yes, Thomas insisted on escorting me. I don't drive much myself these days, I'm afraid."

"You must be quite the powerful woman to have Mayors chauffeuring you around." Jack couldn't help but be jocular. In settings like a funeral reception especially.

"Oh my no..." The sweet old lady waved her hand dismissively, obviously enjoying the attention. Stu was looking bored.

"Grandma, when can we leave?"

"Oh hush now, Stu. Let Thomas rub some elbows – he hardly ever gets the chance to meet new people back in Mineral Town."

Mineral Town. That's where Grandpa's farm had been – the tiny hamlet with the odd name that still colored lingering memories orange with sunlight. The slightly odd manner of this woman and her grandson were falling into place. It wasn't so odd that a boy from Mineral Town would enjoy spinach, and the woman's dress would fit right in to that quaint country backdrop.

"So you're from Mineral Town. I was wondering how you knew my grandfather." Jack extended his hand again to the senior. "Thanks for coming. I'm sure Grandpa appreciates it."

"Oh, he was a wonderful man, Jack." Her jovial face turned a few shades grayer as she took the proffered handshake. Her skin was paper and the veins were shockingly pronounced and colorful, but it still felt somehow nice to have his hand in hers. Comforting in a way that he suspected was practiced. "Spoke of you often as I'm sure you know. Was always bragging about somebody in his family doing something amazing. I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

"Grandpa was the amazing one. I don't think I could ever do what he did. So you were neighbors?"

"Oh yes, I live very close to where he would hack away with that hoe of his. With Stu and my granddaughter you know. Of course, it's been awhile since he worked the land what with his health, God bless him, but we visited often." The shade that had been hanging over the woman's head seemed to lift a bit as she slipped into reverie. "Back in his heyday, the man would drop by near every day and bring me little presents. Some eggs from his chickens or a fresh dozen tomatoes. I'd always tell him not to bother the trip to me, but he was a very generous man." Her mood seemed to falter again, but she reversed direction. "You look very much like him. Your father always was every bit the city businessman, but you look like you'd look right at home in a pair of overalls!"

"Well I don't currently own any, but I do get that a lot." It was surprisingly easy to talk to this woman. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"Oh, Stu you're rubbing off on me." The scolding missed its mark - her scapegoat must have escaped from her hold at some point because he was sipping on something from a paper cup across the room. "I'm so embarrassed, how can I get on to him when I forget things like an introduction. I'm Ellen." Jack was saved from having to decide if a second handshake was necessary by another blustery voice that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"What on earth are you doing standing?" The turned heads and disapproving eyes reminded a suddenly bashful looking man that raised voices weren't very appropriate for the current setting. Cheeks flush, he tottered over resolutely to repeat himself. "You know the doctor told you it's going to be very hard on your body if you stand – where did your wheelchair go?" Now that Jack could see him up close, perhaps he was wrong about his cheeks being that red from embarrassment – this somewhat stocky middle-aged man had the kind of rosy complexion usually reserved for drunkards and Santa Claus. His odd maroon suit only accentuated the effect.

"Now leave me be, Thomas." She was resolute in a way she hadn't been with Stu. The man in the suit was almost comically worried – he held his arms out as if the elder woman would crumble to the ground at any moment. "If he's right then it's only common sense that I should walk about while I can when I feel up to it. Now stop it – you're embarrassing me."

"Once you're off your feet – until then, I'm going to keep embarrassing you!" All of us, Jack silently added, but couldn't help but grin. He liked Thomas's awkward way. It seemed very genuine. Two and two had already been put together and it seemed only natural that a backwater like Mineral Town had such a man as it's governing official.

"Here, there's a chair behind me." Jack hefted the solid wooden furniture he had noticed beside the buffet table and offered it up to the still rebellious woman. "Sorry for betraying you Ma'am, but I don't get the feeling this man will stop. Being Mayor means you're always concerned for your citizens, I guess."

Seemingly noticing Jack's presence for the first time, Thomas turned his shiny bald head towards his unexpected ally with a sigh of relief. "Thanks friend. Come on, let's get you off your feet Ms. Ellen."

"Oh... I'm not that fragile, you know." She took the Mayor's arm and slowly began sitting despite her complaints. Jack imagined that he heard creaking coming from her hip – the process took a full thirty seconds and he had to hold himself back from offering his assistance as well. "There. Now I hope you're satisfied, but I'm getting right back up again unless you stay and keep me company."

"I'll stay right here. Already discussed things with everyone."

"Really, now? Everyone?"

"Well – apart from one concerned party I suppose." Jack was suddenly left out of the conversation and so started probing for openings to make his polite escape to another corner of the room.

"It was very nice meeting you Ma'am. I suppose I'd better go and keep mingling."

"Oh, of course. It was very nice to meet you too, Jack. You have our most heartfelt condolences on your loss. We all feel it with you, you know."

"Yes, thank you very much for coming and for your kind words." There, perfect. Now maybe it was time to escape outside – surely nobody would begrudge him a moment alone right now.

"Excuse me, but you're the grandson?"

Damn. Jack allowed himself a hidden sigh before turning around with his smile re-widened. "Yes sir."

"Our last concerned party?" Ellen seemed to enjoy the chance to reel Jack back in.

"As it so happens!" Thomas was looking him up and down quite openly. "You know I've just been speaking to your father about a few things. Old stories mostly of course, but your grandfather had a few things that he asked me to get squared away for him."

"Really? And I'm a 'concerned party' to something?"

"As a matter of fact you are. Do you know how much land that grandfather of yours owned?"

"I'm afraid I don't sir. It's been some time since I last visited Mineral Town. It seemed like he owned half the world from my memory, but everything seems bigger when you're a kid."

"Ha! You're right about that, you certainly are!" The man's rosy smile was full of good humor, but his eyes twinkled with something more calculating. "Now it may be shy of that, but he did own quite a bit. He was a fairly successful business man you know, and he owned more of the surrounding area than we in the local government even did. Now he was a generous man, and he set aside a majority of his acres as a sort of nature preserve – places for the animals and townsfolk to wander you know – he cared, like we all do, about keeping our town beautiful and in tune with nature."

"That sounds like him. I'm glad to hear it, I'll have to come back and wander around it myself some time."

"Well now, I was hoping you'd say that." The statement was a sprung trap. "I've been talking to your father about the possibility of you all coming down to see things, because your grandfather didn't leave all of the land to the public."

"Oh? He left some land to my parents?" Jack had considered that might happen of course, but he doubted Dad would do anything with it other than sell it. He was far too practical to take up a vacation home, and neither he nor Mom liked the trappings of nature much. Ever childhood camping trip had been cut quite short for his family because of bugs or poison ivy or somesuch, a fact that Jack still mildly resented.

"Well, no – not to your parents..." Thomas was enjoying this.

"To you!" Ellen interrupted with girlish glee. Jack could feel his eyes widen and his heart skip a beat. He had suspected he might be left the rusted out contents of a work shed. Maybe a few boxes of knick-knacks, or even a bit of money. But land? He had never heard his grandfather even hint at it in his last days.

"Aw, now why'd you do that? I had wanted to tell him." Seeing a political figure sulk so openly was strange.

"You were taking too long, even for an old windbag like me."

"In any case, his house, the land that he used for his old ranch, and the most fertile plots of farmland: they were all set in his will to go to you." Thomas sounded like he was naming a prize that had just been won in a gameshow. "He was very generous to you – as he was to all of us. And while I'm sure you'll need plenty of time to think about it..."

"Come now, don't start telling the boy what to do with it, it belongs to him now." Ellen was far harsher with this man than with Stu it would seem.

"Now, I know that. I just wanted to let him know of some options. Look here," A business card, simple and unpretentious – just his name, town, and phone number – was sheepishly offered. "Talk with your folks about it, but please consider coming down and visiting us before you do anything. You can call me anytime and we'll prepare you a free stay at our little inn. It's really a charming place, run by our Doug and his daughter. You'll love it, the cooking there got voted best home-cooked meal by the traveling Gourmand! Have you seen his show? You know, our whole town was on there once-"

"You're rambling terribly, dear." Ellen tittered gently, obviously enjoying the mild drama unfolding in front of her.

"Ah yes, well, I must admit to having a personal stake in this. We all have a stake, as you well know." Ellen was quiet at that, and Jack could only listen dumbfounded as the man continued. "I can't tell you how sorry I am to be talking about such things at a funeral, but it's my job you see. Life in our little Mineral Town might be simple and slow, but it's beautiful and we all would hate for concrete parking lots or a highway to start tearing it up. If you..." A pause. He had been talking very fast, and emotion was obvious in the man's voice – he was getting a handle on himself. "If your family wasn't going to use the land, we'd like you to consider selling it to us. We'd offer you as much as we could, not what it's worth in total admittedly, but you'd be doing us all a very big service."

"That's enough now Thomas, you've said your piece, now let's leave him alone."

"Yes, you're right of course. I admit I don't feel quite right about bringing this up right now. The loss you're going through, that we're all going through should be our only focus today. I do hope you'll forgive me, Jack." A pause. It was the young man with the land's turn to talk, but he didn't have anything yet. He was struggling to process it all. He wasn't proud of it, but dollar signs were flashing in his eyes. How much did land go for nowadays? They weren't making any more of it, after all. If it was truly a valuable tract of land – he could quit his job. He could fulfill his promise to himself. He could be free of the rat-race society had forced him jump in to with a false smile. It had been too long a pause when he came back to earth and realized he had two sets of expectant eyes on him.

"I... I'm sorry it's..." Jack looked back down at the business card so he wouldn't have to meet their eyes. He flipped it over for no reason besides nervous energy and saw that there was a small childish doodle of a chicken next to Thomas's name. Maybe Stu had gotten to the card at some point. Or maybe that was as far as Mineral Town's Mayor had developed his art skills. His giggled stifled successfully into a cleared throat, Jack felt like he could look at them again. "This is a strange thing to suddenly have to think about. Thank you so much for your kind offer. I'll need to talk to my family and figure all of this out-"

"Of course, of course!" The Mayor wouldn't let him finish. "I wouldn't even accept it if you gave me an answer now, it's far too sudden. Still, please... whatever it is that you decide to do with the farm, give me a call and let me know. We'd all really appreciate it. And regardless, you're always welcome to that free stay at the inn – as many times as you and your family would like. Least we can do for you after everything your grandfather did for us."

"We may take you up on that" Jack said, unsure if he meant it or not, "It would be very nice to see Mineral Town again. It's been years."

"Well it's just as beautiful as ever!"

"Although it might seem a bit smaller than you remember it." Ellen added, beginning to struggle back up to her feet. "Come and help me back to my wheelchair, would you?" The Mayor jumped at her direction and she took his plump arm in hers. "Don't you worry a thing about what the Mayor is saying – I doubt a highway would even want anything to do with a town like ours. You do exactly what you want to with what your grandfather gave you."

"Well I appreciate this, both of you. I'll hold on to your card, sir," Jack promised. "And my family and I will be in contact with you about everything."

"We'd truly be thankful." The Mayor spoke over his shoulder as Ellen led him forcibly, albeit slowly, away. "It was very nice talking to you! Remember, call any time! Day or night!"

Just like that, they disappeared back into the sea of black clothing and distant relatives, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts.

"Grandpa... Why'd you leave it to me?" The whisper was a bit louder than he meant it to be.

"Because he loved you," Dad's voice – the clap on the shoulder confirmed it. "It's quite the gift."

"Yeah... I... I don't think I should have this Dad. I can turn it over to you and-"

"No." His father was in front of him now, and cleaning his glasses on his shirt. He always did that nervous tic when he was discussing something he felt was serious. During "the talk" both lenses had been cracked from the frequent polishing. "He wanted you to have it, so it's yours. I saw Thomas already spoke with you."

"Yeah."

"So you know they'd like to buy it?"

"He was trying to win me over I think, yeah." Both men shared a small laugh. The Mayor was quite a character, but his sales pitch had been too transparent to feel manipulative.

"I went to Mineral Town to pick your grandfather up you know."

"Yeah?" That seemed to be a change in topic.

"The land... he hasn't been in any kind of shape to keep it up you know. He had to sell all the animals and the fields are completely over-run. Frankly, it looks terrible."

"Really? I guess it's no surprise, Grandpa was way too old to keep it up-"

"There was one patch he was still working on though. Just a few turnips and some flowers, but I'd never seen something cared for with so much affection." Did Dad sound... jealous?

"Wow. Guess that's Grandpa for you."

"Well, even that has to be gone by now."

"Sad..." Jack meant it too. The image of a last bastion of beauty being overrun by weeds was depressing in more ways than one.

"You know they can't pay near what it's worth."

"What?"

"I was talking numbers with the man." That was Dad, always ready with the business saavy. "I'm no expert on land in their area, but a quick search online told me that they don't have the budget to give even a fraction of it's monetary value."

"Yeah, he'd mentioned he couldn't pay full price..." The Mayor's eyes were pleading, in retrospect.

"Well, it might take longer, but if you put it up on the open market, you'd probably have enough to get yourself a nice little house. Fully paid for, no mortgage. Something to think about." The dollar signs were flashing in Jack's eyes again. Freedom. That money was freedom... "Then again, even if they can't pay much – those townspeople are good folks. Might be at least worth hearing them out."

"Dad? That doesn't sound like you." The glasses were getting cleaned again. "This is coming from the guy who is always telling me what a scam charities are."

"They are, most of them. Do you know how much money goes into marketing versus actually helping-" A sigh. "I... know a lot of these people. I would never want to live like they do, and that's why I got out. It's why so many leave Mineral Town. But there's something to be said for simplicity and... well, if it were me, I might just give it to them."

The dollar signs were disappearing and Jack felt guilt and disgust stabbing him in the gut. "Should I- I mean of course I... I should donate the land back to the town, shouldn't I? I mean, that would be the right thing to do..."

"Well now, I never said that." Dad was back in practicality mode. We'll talk about this more on the drive back. In the end, it's your decision and we'll all respect that. Your grandpa wanted you to have it, so everyone should respect his wishes, you especially."

With that and another clap on the shoulder, Jack was alone again. The crowd's mournful murmuring started to turn to gibberish in his ears as he flipped the simple business card through his fingers. It was so strange – it seemed impossible for such a choice to be laid on his shoulders. When in life does anyone get such a moment? It seemed to ooze meaning, and Jack was aware that his choice would be very telling as to what kind of person he really was.

What did he truly value?

What did he want?

Freedom? The approval of others? The best mix of both he could manage, probably. But was that going to be possible? Was personal happiness or the happiness of others he barely knew more important? Did it matter? His head hurt and the chicken on the back of the card was screeching at him.

He missed his grandfather.

"Hey Jack!" The world crashed back into place, and Jack tried to hurriedly wipe away the tears that had starting flowing again. It was Stu. "I've gotta go now, but the Mayor said you might come and visit!"

"Yeah, maybe." Jack knew his face looked a mess. "The, uh, the Mayor said I could stay at the inn for free. Pretty sweet, right?"

"Yeah, that's awesome! The food is super good, and," A sly look around before Jack was waved in for a whispered secret; "Ann is really, really pretty!" Evidently, Stu was already concerned with such things. It helped Jack put away his darker thoughts to laugh at that.

"Ann?"

"Yeah, she's the cook. You'd like her, she's nice and always plays with me."

"Well the deal just keeps getting sweeter, huh? I'll really have to think about it."

A call from the exit. Stu needed to go. "Make sure you come! It gets boring only seeing the same people every day!"

"Yeah..." Jack waved his farewell and regretted he couldn't have snuck in a round of tag or something. That seemed like a good kid. Watching the lad trot up to his smiling grandmother and the doddering old chaperone made Jack's heart suddenly ache. The responsibility of his decision began sinking in once more.

Until another option sprang out of the dark like a wildflower above the sea of muck. It was discarded immediately as stupid and impractical of course, but it remained a subject of exciting fantasy for the rest of the reception.

And the drive home.

And the call to Thomas a week later.

Visions of vast fields and weathered tools. The smell of pollen and raw earth. The grit of soil beneath fingernails and the taste of wholesome things. His grandfather's voice.

Get up and do something for a change!

Just a fantasy. Just a daydream. But it stuck with him all the way to his visit to Mineral Town.


	3. Going Back

Mineral town was smaller than Jack remembered.

Maybe it was because the sun happened to be setting and the shadows were covering his grandfather's hometown, but it all seemed astonishingly humble.

Compared to the cities and suburbs he was used to being in, this hamlet barely qualified as... well, even the word hamlet was generous. He had half expected the twisting roads that followed his cross-country trip down the highways to open into the infinite fields and towering forests of his childhood memory. But of course his nostalgia had colored everything unrealistically. Upon arrival, Mineral Town seemed to be like most small countryside communities, only it was smaller. Small wooden shacks, small population (had he even seen anyone on the road in the last half hour?), small road. Not roads. Road. Singular. He was in the right place though. The once-colorful, but now sun-bleached and slightly peeling sign proclaiming WELCOME TO MINERAL TOWN confirmed it. As did the small sparks of recognition from Jack's own memories.

"Where do I-" Jack's head swiveled left and right in vain, searching as he complained to himself. "Where do I park?" The rocky dirt path he was driving down, barely narrow enough for even his compact car, was beginning to drive the city-slicker insane. "You better hope this gravel doesn't loosen a piston or belt or whatever the hell is in my car's engine..." His vague threat was directed at the town itself. "I'll turn grandpa's land into a damn theme park. How'd you like that? Bring some civilization to this flea bitten..." He shook his head to try and clear it of his negativity. It had been a long trip. His back ached, his eyes burned from fatigue (he had forced himself to drive almost constantly to get there, didn't want to sleep in a motel) and these tiny buildings bouncing past his windows didn't currently seem to be worth the trip.

A few cottages, the old chapel... He thought he recognized that spit of a general store – it had been there when he was young, he was almost sure of it. Next to it was – what, a clinic? Didn't look like the sort of place he'd like to end up if he was hurt. A village doc like this might still employ leeches or herbs grown out in his back forty. If he had an accident out here, he was probably done for. The thought prompted Jack to put his focus back to the road ahead of him. Where was that inn? Jack slowed his car to a crawl (no one behind him anyway, so what did it matter) and wriggled the cell phone from his front pocket.

"Yep. Still no signal." Couldn't call the mayor to ask or get the GPS to bail him out. It was a legitimate surprise for Jack to have his usual procedure for finding a place fail. Oh well, the road seemed to be looping back the way he came already, best to just continue going and keep an eye out.

TAP TAP TAP

"Wah!" Jack wasn't proud of the surprised squeal that escaped him, but whoever had approached his driver side window had managed to do it completely unseen while he had been looking at his phone. How embarrassing. A sheepish glance to the side revealed the attacker to be... actually, crap, was this dude actually attacking him?

Jack couldn't help but let the base, reptile part of his brain immediately classify this beast of a man as "potential threat". He was at least six feet tall and wide as the car door he stood beside. The shadows from the setting sun couldn't hide the scowl on his square jaw and it was doubtful that ANYTHING could hide the bulging muscles that were practically bursting from his sweat-stained, sleeveless gray shirt. Huge, bristly eyebrows furrowed in – interest? Wrath? Intent to commit grand theft auto? and a drill sergeant's flattened haircut completed the picture.

"Hey there."

For a moment Jack froze, he didn't know how to respond. His subconscious briefly pondered whether this town had any sort of a police presence. He almost considered accelerating away or tapping the "lock doors" button just to be sure. But his kneejerk reaction was to clumsily respond from behind the glass.

"H-Hey!"

The giant man blinked in confusion before gesturing in the universally understood "roll down your window" fashion while adding, "You need help?" His voice was gravelly and his words were clipped, but Jack's intuition found no malice in the sound, and suddenly felt guilty and silly for his paranoia. He rolled down his window and put his car in park.

"A-Ah, That obvious, huh? Yeah, I'm lost."

A pause. The man seemed to be evaluating Jack and his words as well. "Hard place to get lost in. 'Least if you're looking for something here in town. You need to get back to the highway?"

"Oh, no – no I was just looking for where to put my car, I'm supposed to be staying at the inn here tonight..."

The tower of muscle's eyes lit up immediately and the scowl was replaced by a... friendlier scowl? "Is that so? You wouldn't happen to be the old man's grandson now, would ya? Heard from a few folks that you'd be by soon!"

"Yeah, that's me!" Relieved at the change in tone for the conversation, Jack obliged with the details about the Mayor's invitation. "I would have called him to confirm where exactly to stick my car, but my phone isn't working out here..."

"Ha! Our town is the last proud bastion of the land-line! Maybe the last town where people actually talk to each other in person too. I might be the only fella in town with a cell, and that's only because I drive out of town so much." The man straightened his back and confidently pointed back the way Jack had come. "You actually just missed the turn in to Doug's place. It's the big place over there, see the one with the roof right there."

"Ah yeah, that's the place?"

"I keep telling him he should spring for a sign or something so folk'll actually stop to stay the night, but he's mostly given up on having guests drop by. He's basically just running a restaurant these days."

"Oh, well that explains it!" Jack forced a bit of a laugh. "Thanks for your help!"

"Sure, sure. Let Doug know that Zack helped you find him. Maybe I'll get a free beer out of it!"

"Haha, right. Sure thing. Thanks again!" With that, Jack rolled the window back up, and with a complex feeling of embarrassment and warmth, began driving forward again looking for a place to turn around. In the rearview, Zack was walking back down the road. It suddenly struck Jack how odd it had felt to have a stranger approach to help him. When was the last time that had happened? Well, when was the last time he had really needed help? Jack was pretty self-sufficient, and proud of the fact.

He also felt another bite of shame for initially judging the man based on the powerful first impression. But he soothed himself by saying, "Ah, it's just human nature. I didn't act like an ass or anything. Just a little awkward. As usual."

There was a small drive leading into the local library that served as a turn around point, and soon Jack was back near the building Zack had pointed out. "Really should get a sign," he mused as he turned in to the tiny dirt patch behind his destination. The only other vehicle there was a bicycle, and it looked like it had seen much better days. Stepping out of his car onto the dusty lot made Jack remember the mayor's words, "We would hate for concrete parking lots or a highway to come tearing it up..."

Maybe a bit of progress wouldn't be so bad for a town like this, though. The thought came unbidden but he couldn't ignore it. He checked his phone again to see the time and noted the continuing lack of bars. He'd have to borrow the innkeeper's phone to call his folks like he promised he would once he arrived. Jack would've never considered himself an elitist or a snob, but honestly now, no cell phone signal? That's fine if you're going on a hike or something, preferred even! But to LIVE with no signal? The TV in his room here probably wouldn't even have cable.

Jack enjoyed this cynical and superior train of thought even as he knew it was ridiculous and immature. Long car trips always made him grumpy. Regardless of the TV situation, he was looking forward to getting some rest – the sun was almost completely set now and the orange glow seeping out from the inn's windows looked inviting. He stretched one more time to ease his sore-from-sitting body and ambled in through the front door.

The first thing that hit Jack was the smell. Before the door hinges had finished creaking shut, a potpourri of baking bread, simmering sauces, and something vaguely floral washed over the newcomer. This perfume in the air was a reminder that he hadn't eaten anything but a greasy snack from a gas station today. The inside of his mouth began to tingle and salivate in preparation.

"Welcome!" The booming voice from behind the counter reminded Jack of sawdust – rough, honest, the result of hard use. The man it belonged too wouldn't look out of place in a workshop either. His face was stern but warm and his skin, while obviously sunbaked, looked positively pale next to the shock of his red hair – slicked back on his head with a neatly trimmed moustache to match. 'Cowboy Cook' summed up the look well.

"A new face!" The surprise and delight in his words were both obvious. "Rare thing in here. What can I get for you, son? You look like you could use some refreshment!"

"Been a long day on the road for sure."

"Well then come on over and pull up a stool! I'll grab you a list of what's in the kitchen today." Jack was immediately caught up in the man's pace. It felt that the only right thing to do would be to have a seat at the bar and order everything available.

"Sounds good – I'll probably want whatever it is that I'm smelling right now."

"Ah, I dunno about that. You're smelling my dinner cooking up right now – and that's just all the ingredients for stuff that didn't sell cooked together before it completely rots." He sniffed in apparent dissatisfaction while slapping down a well-worn paper menu. "I think tonight it's savory carrot cake. Whatever that's supposed to be."

"Oh. Well, hey, my compliments to the chef to get it to smell that good then."

"Ah, yer just hungry I bet. But I'm sure my Ann appreciates it all the same. Hey, maybe I'll add that to the menu, call it a new special!" The man guffawed heartily at his own words. Jack smiled amiably and turned his attention to the menu – the name 'Ann' tickled his memory – Stu had mentioned her. But that could wait. He would introduce himself and his reason for being here in a moment. His priorities had shifted heavily towards food. The prices seemed a bit expensive for what was on offer – grilled fish over rice, sandwiches, various salads, cakes and pies – but then again it was probably a pain to import ingredients to this little burg. That in mind, Jack was happy to cough up.

"I think I'll have... uh, number five – the set meal."

"ANNIE!" He yelled over his shoulder. "GET THIS FELLA HERE A FIVE!"

"Alright, Dad!" The voice, sounding innocent and confident in equal measure, was accompanied by the clattering of new pans being pulled from a cluttered cabinet. Jack's mind instinctively tried to imagine what the woman who had that voice would look like.

"Something to drink?" Jack only really wanted water, but a furtive glance around the tables made it clear that there was nobody else in the building. It didn't feel right as the only customer to order a free drink.

"Uh, what's good?"

"Everything, o' course! But here in town everyone's favorite is the grape liquor! Get the grapes right from the vineyard in town! I've never seen any place that has stuff like what we've got."

"Grape liquor? That's a new one. Like wine? Or grape schnapps?"

"You gotta try it." Suddenly insistent, the barkeep ducked beneath the counter and popped back up brandishing a thick opaque bottle. "Try it and see if you don't like it." The sample that was poured into the glass was generous, a couple fingers of the stuff at least. Normally he wasn't much of a drinker, but not wishing to offend, Jack took the proffered glass and drank it all down without pausing to sniff. The rugged innkeeper's eyes widened with surprise.

"Wow, you downed that like a professional! Most people can't down Duke's swill like th... wait, you alright?"

"A-Akhem!" Jack was trying his best to answer in the affirmative but found he couldn't do much else but cough. It hadn't felt like anything in the first second, but now it seemed like his throat was on fire! "Aah'm, eeeeeehm," The shudder that went up his spine made his whole body quake. "I'm good..." The innkeep's laughter was loud enough that it seemed to reverberate around the small wooden restaurant.

"As I thought, you didn't quite have the look of a hardened drinker. But we'll get you there! Here, drink this one slower." The glass was refilled, to the brim this time. Jack blanched at the sight of it. Time to change the subject and get the attention off of that poisonous sludge.

"You – you're Doug, right?"

"Oh, haven't I introduced myself yet? That's right! I'm Doug." He stuck a calloused hand out which Jack shook. Jack felt a bit insecure afterwards in a silly way – he knew there was no way his handshake had been as firm and strong as this man's. "And you?"

"Right, I'm Jack. My grandfather owned the farm down the road a bit."

"Oh, you're Jack! Huh, dunno why I didn't put two and two together – I thought I remembered you! Last time you were in town you were this tall..." He placed his left hand to the level of his waist. "You just dropped in for some milk a couple times with your granddad I think, but I remember."

"Haha, yeah – maybe I should have stuck with the milk. That liquor's good, but I may have some trouble getting up in the morning if I down all you poured me..."

"Pfft!" Doug scoffed dismissively. "If you've truly got your granddad's blood in you, you could drink everything at the bar and be up sowing seeds by 5 am tomorrow..." After that things got a bit quiet, and Jack noticed a far-away quality in his host's gaze. "He was a regular you know. Probably my best customer. And a good friend. We all miss him."

Jack nodded. He could imagine how it was, Grandpa sitting right at this stool, smacking a mug down and laughing back and forth with Doug about... well, whatever he talked about. Chicken feed or grass growing. Them both falling into a familiar and comforting routine between them. Jack's thinking was interrupted by the thunk of another bottle hitting the bar.

"Awww, hell, sorry to bring it up. I know it's likely been even harder on you, son. Your grandad was a good man." Another tall class of the thick ochre fluid was poured, but this one Doug took in his own grip. "Here's to him."

Instinctively Jack knew it would be disrespectful to both the man in front of him and his Grandfather to refuse, so his distaste for the liquor vanished in the face of this solemn occasion. He raised his glass with a nod and both men drank until their glasses were empty.

About halfway through the chug Jack began to regret it, but somehow managed to keep himself from making any noise more embarrassing than a cleared throat at the end.

"Hah, see? You're his grandson after all. Want another?"

"No, thank you." Jack waved his hands to defend his glass from the proffered bottle. "I've probably overdone it already. But thank you very much." The warmth of the alcohol was spreading rapidly from his stomach to the rest of him. Soon it felt like it was the middle of summer and he had decided to wear a parka. "It goes down a lot easier the second time!" He ventured, hoping to get the conversation away from the mourning and back to happier chit chat. Jack had already had enough of reminiscing, it was practically all anyone had talked about since Grandpa's passing.

"Ain't that the truth!" Luckily, Doug seemed to be on the same page. "Nary a soul in town turns their nose up at it. Well, exceptin' the little ones and my Annie."

"What are y'all saying about me out there?!" The chef's voice called out in mock irritation. The twang of country accent in the girl's words was so novel to Jack's ears he felt compelled to comment on it, but thought better of that and instead called out to her.

"Doug's just saying you can't handle your liquor!" Jack joked, a goofy grin growing on his tingling face. Maybe he would have just one more drink...

"Now I didn't say that – I said she didn't like it. Not now in any case. She's her father's daughter though – I expect in a few years she'll be drinking every man in town under the table." He paused to put the liquor bottles back under the counter and then called to the back room, "ANNIE! ONCE YOU'VE GOT THINGS COOKING COME OUT HERE AND-"

"It's all in the oven, Dad." Before her father could finish, a young woman, probably a few years younger than Jack, popped out from the kitchen with a bright and energetic face that one wouldn't normally associate with a chef running a whole kitchen by herself. She had bright hair to match her father's, and even tanner skin. The girl's arms were noticeably firm and muscled as well – it was obvious that she was very active. She seemed to exude vigor and health. After wiping her hands a few times on a slightly stained apron she had strapped over denim overalls she beelined to Jack's seat with a smile and a wave. "I heard y'all talking out here. Pleased to meet ya Jack, I'm Ann."

"Oh, ah, likewise!" The woman's long orange braid shifted from laying over her shoulder to falling down behind her waist as she extended her hand in greeting. It was probably just that Jack had recently shaken Doug's, but this hand seemed almost impossibly soft – yet it held no less confidence in it's grip. "Stu was right!"

"Stu?" Ann lifted her eyebrows and returned her hands to her apron, shifting and tucking away cloth that threatened to spill from its front pocket.

'You are pretty,' he nearly blurted out, but luckily replaced that at the last second with "You are the chef here! Best food in town according to him!" The girl's smile at hearing that was sparkling.

"Hear that Dad? Best food in town!" She threw the words at him as a tease, another blow in a long standing argument.

"That boy hasn't tried the god-awful experiments you try out on me!"

"Ah, what do you know?" She turned her attention back to their guest. "I'll have to give Stu a treat later for being so sweet. Where'd you run in to the little feller?"

"Oh, at the reception of my grandpa's funeral."

The atmosphere grew a shade darker again at the mention of it. Jack was getting tired of it happening, but there was no way around the fact that his grandfather was his only link to this place and these people.

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss." Ann was the one to speak first. "I didn't talk to him much like Dad did, but I know your grandpa was a sweet guy. He would give me little gifts and things all the time, ever since I was little. We'll all miss him."

Jack felt like a bit of an imposter having everyone heaping the sympathy on to him. From everyone's descriptions of how close they were to Grandpa, it seemed like he should be the one giving them all the condolences. He had loved his grandfather, yes, but there was no way he had spent the time with him these townsfolk had. And his relationship with the man was probably not as close as the one between he and Doug from the looks of it. Ignoring this thought as best he could. Jack nodded.

"Yeah. Thanks. It's really great to know he had such great friends here. You all helped make his life full and happy. I'm... we're all... t-truly thankful." His eyes were getting misty. Damn liquor.

"Ah, shoot, I'm sorry..." Ann seemed to be feeling a bit awkward now, and decided on a strategic retreat for now. "I better go make sure nothin's burning in here, but ah..." She paused again – probably trying to think of an appropriate way to comfort a stranger that was about to cry – but Jack decided to save her the effort.

"There's nothing to apologize about!" As proof he wore a smile again, his tears successfully beaten back into submission. "I really am happy. It's just, you know, how things are. This is how life goes!" His eyes left hers and went back to Doug's. It was always easier to get emotions in check when looking at a middle aged man than it was when looking at a pretty girl. The pretty girl in question walked back into the kitchen and Jack continued chatting with Doug before, during, and after the simple meal. It was good food, but at the same time, Jack barely tasted it as he worked his way through small talk and his spinning head. After what seemed like a few hours, Doug handed his guest a small key.

"This here's for your room. The mayor told me he would cover you as long as you wanted to stay, and yer definitely not going anywhere else in this condition. You're upstairs, second door on the right. Careful you don't make a mistake and go in the first door – there's another gentleman, though I use the term loosely, in there and I don't think he likes visitors."

"Thankhs, Doug..." Jack lazily slurred. The liquor had fully taken effect, but he was gamely fighting the urge to dance, spill all his emotional baggage, and/or vomit. "I 'preciate it. You...you..."

"You need to get to bed, son." Doug smiled gamely and called out for his daughter. "Hey Ann?"

"Yeah, Dad?" She was apparently working herself through the cleaning – she ducked her head out of the kitchen with suds all over her hands.

"Can you go out and grab Jack's bags? Jack, where are your keys? And how much did you bring with you?"

"What?!" Jack stood up unnaturally quickly. "Don't even...Don't, Annie. Sorry, Ann." Even tipsy, he felt embarrassed for the slip of the tongue. "I'm not so bad that I can't get my own..." He couldn't decide on the word he wanted to use for luggage and instead settled on, "...you know." Ann giggled and gave a shake of her head to her father. Jack knew he was embarrassing himself, but he also believed he was being at least a little entertaining, so wasn't trying very hard to tone his it down.

"Oh it's no worry. What's your bag look like?" She was drying her hands and getting ready. For some reason, Jack felt it important not to give in at this point.

"Nope, I'm going. It's too... too heavy. Too heavy. I'm going." He began stumbling towards the door, but Ann smoothly placed herself between him and the door.

"If it's a matter of strength, I'm probably the winner there, stringbean." This was obviously just a bit of good natured ribbing, but Jack's ego was bruised nevertheless.

"Oh really?" The idea sprang up immediately and in his current frame of mind, it seemed absolutely genius to the wobbling young man. "We'll see about THAT!" He sat down at one of the empty dinner tables, again unnaturally quickly. He felt as if his joints were more fluid and flexible than normal – and he also felt like he could be stronger than usual too. "Let's go. Arm wrestle me!" Doug laughed uproariously.

"Oh, I like the sound of this. Go on, Annie. You can take him!"

"Of course I can, but I don't wanna embarrass him..."

"I have already embarrassed myself plenty!" Jack argued. "It... probably can't get worse. Arm wrestle me!"

"Suppose I can't argue with that..." After removing her apron and draping it on the bar, Ann sat opposite of her wobbling opponent and Doug approached with an air of practiced professionalism.

"I want a clean fight, both of you. Elbows on the table..." Jack felt a faint thrill as his hand gripped Ann's. It really was incredibly soft. And up close, with her staring him down with a toothy smirk on her face, he could see that her eyes were a particularly vivid shade of blue...

SMACK

"Well, that was easy. Didn't you hear him say, 'Go?'" Jack blinked in confusion at his hand laying on the table. "I'm pretty disappointed. Didn't expect much of a fight, but come on now, Jack..." Ann stood up, still smiling, and headed towards the door. Somewhere, somehow Jack supposed he must have put his keys down on the counter, because she was twirling them around her finger.

"Woah, hold on jush a minute-"

"It's been decided, son." Doug was shaking his head in disbelief. "I wouldn't trust you to not get lost on your way to your vehicle in your condition. You want a rematch you can have it in the morning."

"I NEVER get lost! Except today I guessss..." Jack put his head to the table. The wood surface was cool and nice. Very comfortable. He wanted to stay there. "Zack helped me find here by the by... he said to get you to know that."

"Zack, huh? Yeah, he makes his rounds picking up for shipping around when you came in. Lots less for him to do now with your granddad gone." Doug's voice changed its tone in a way that made Jack raise his head and sober up a bit. "Less for all of us here now."

Before Jack could respond, Ann walked back in with his duffel bag under one arm. "You call this heavy?"

"Aw, whatever..." Jack took the bag from her as a yawn escaped him. "You cheated and I'll get you at some point tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow. For now, get to bed 'strong man." Ann laughed again and turned away to disappear into the back of the inn, leaving Jack alone with Doug again. Jack noticed immediately that the older man was eyeing him funnily, but the look passed and Doug simply repeated his room number again before wishing him a good night.

Jack stumbled into the room and immediately realized cable TV would not be a problem – there was no TV. Or anything at all in the room, really, besides a bed, a nightstand, and a window. But the bed was all that mattered at that moment, so he groggily changed into the clothes he had packed as pajamas and slipped under the fluffy quilts. They smelt freshly laundered.

Clicking off the bedside lamp left him in almost total darkness – there were no artificial lights outside to dampen the absolute black. It was almost frightening, but the sound of crickets outside was a familiar comfort he latched on to. A minute later the memory struck him – he had been afraid to go to sleep at his grandpa's when he was a kid too. It was always the sounds of nature that calmed him – like a lullaby.

As he slowly drifted off, he could almost hear in the chirps the notes of that song. The same song that had skirted at the edges of his memories and dreams all week.

That night, Jack's last thoughts were reminders to himself again of the many things he had to do tomorrow. And the many reasons he needed to be here.

And the terrifying dream that was solidifying its grip on his heart.


End file.
